


A Kiss of Fate

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And I'm not saying Jon goes looking for trouble, But the poor guy can't say no can he?, F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Sansa is trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: Sansa is trying to escape her old life with Petyr, even if she knows getting away from Littlefinger is basically impossible.Jon knows Sansa is trouble the moment he lays eyes on her. But he's too much of an honourable fool to abandon a damsel in distress.When Sansa's car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, Jon offers her a ride. He has no idea what he's just got himself into.





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa had been driving for hours, not thinking about any possible destination, never planning ahead of the next twenty-four hours. She just kept driving, fleeing, trying to get as far away from Petyr as possible.

She risked a glance at the bag resting in the passenger seat. It was still there, the spoils of Petyr's latest deal. It was a risk to take even more from him than she already was by escaping, but she needed the money to make this work.

She'd payed for the car in cash, careful not to leave any traces. She tucked some of her hair back under the hat she was wearing. That would be the next step, dyeing her fiery locks, which were making her much too conspicuous. 

She needed a fake ID as well, but it would have to wait until after she'd crossed the border. Any place she could go to in this state able to get her a more than decent one had ties to Petyr. He'd have her back in a matter of hours if she risked it.

Despite the direness of her situation, a sudden giddiness started bubbling up in her chest,  bursting from her lips in a giggle that quickly transformed into a loud guffaw.

She was finally doing it. She was breaking away from the man who'd held her in his power ever since the night he'd found her in his club. Even if she wasn't out of the woods yet and was going to keep looking over her shoulder for a considerable part of her future,  that was reason enough to celebrate.

Her mood quickly turned sour when the engine of her car started sputtering.  _No, no! Seven hells!  Fuck no!_ She managed to steer it to the side of the road and hopped out.

The blistering heat and glare of the sun hit her as soon as she got out of the car.

 _You've got this, San. You can do this._ But what exactly was she going to do? She didn't know anything about car engines and there was not another soul in sight within miles.

She kicked the tip of her boot into the back tire and fisted her fingers into her hat, slowly dragging it off her head so she could comb her fingers through her hair, a nervous habit she'd come to acquire in the last couple of years.

She realized with a gasp that she might be drawing attention to herself and her eyes started flitting around anxiously. She could see a car approaching and pulled a tattered romance novel from her purse, pretending to be engrossed in it.

She felt both horror and relief when the truck pulled to a stop. She was in the middle of nowhere, she wouldn't get away from here without any help, but accepting it could go wrong in so many ways that she couldn't allow herself to relax.

***

Jon spied her from afar, a tall slender figure pacing next to a car. He might not have noticed her, if it wasn't for her long fiery locks. A girl alone on the road in these parts probably meant trouble, but he'd never been one to refuse help to those in need, so he took a deep breath and pressed down the gas pedal.

When he came closer, she was leaning against the teal seventies-style Lincoln, pretending to read a book. Impossibly long legs, crossed at the ankles, rose out of soft brown boots, covered only by miniscule shorts. She was wearing a sleeveless frilly white blouse with some flower pattern along the neckline. Her dark red hair kept whipping into her face, forcing her to brush it away, while she tried and failed to keep her eyes on the yellowed pages of her book.

He parked behind her and killed the engine, hesitating for a moment before he got out. He hooked a thumb into a loop of his jeans as he approached her, giving her an awkward wave before using that hand to push back the curls falling into his face. "Everything alright, Miss?" he asked.

She offered him a tense smile, avoiding his eyes and hiding half her face behind her book. "Yeah, thanks. Just needed to stretch my legs for a while."

He frowned, taking off his sunglasses, and gestured to her book.  "You often read while err- stretching your legs?"

She focused on his face with narrowed eyes. "What's it to you?" she retorted sharply.

He shrugged. "Just trying to make conversation,  I guess. You sure you don't need any help?"

Her face relaxed for a moment but then she bit her lip, her full and very pink bottom lip. He lowered his eyes,  but couldn't help letting them roam over body from up close. It must be getting close to noon, the sudden heat made him feel flustered.

"What's your name?" she asked in a softer voice.

He glanced back up at her face, meeting deep blue eyes, and swallowed heavily. "I'm Jon. You?"

"My name's A- Sansa." 

He didn't miss her stumbling over the words. _Trouble_ , a voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

She studied his face for a moment and he made sure to return her gaze, not averting his eyes.

He heard himself stupidly offering her a ride. But what could he do? He wasn't about to leave a young woman out here on her own.

She didn't try to object that she didn't need one, confirming his suspicions that her car must have broken down.

She just gave him another long look,  biting her lip again and for a moment he thought he saw a glint of fear in her eyes.  

She quickly caught herself, offering him a bright smile. "If it's not too much trouble..."

The voice in the back of his mind chuckled darkly. "No trouble at all," he insisted. 

She tucked her hair away under a wide-rimmed floppy hat and went to retrieve a bag from the passenger seat.

She winced when he tried to take it from her.  _I guess trouble is your middle name, Jon Snow._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jon was not a talker. At one point in her life, this would have unnerved Sansa, but now she enjoyed the fact that he didn't seem to care much for smalltalk. There was something comforting about it. She had not always been a good judge of character, but she'd learned.

That's why she'd given him her real name, to test his reaction. And she believed he'd stopped because he was genuinely concerned about a total stranger. 

She kept throwing glances at him in fascination. He was the ruggedly handsome type, with his unruly curls, bearded jaw and sullen face, but there was a sadness in his eyes and his lips were full enough to make any girl jealous.

He was wearing a black tank top, exposing his arms as they were stretched out lazily to grip the steering wheel, showing off his muscles.

She let out a sharp breath, cheeks flushing hot. She told herself it was the weather and the stuffy, confined cab of his truck.

Suddenly guilt twisted her stomach.  She was endangering this kind man who was willing to help her, just by sitting next to him in his car for a couple of hours and here she was, ogling him, wondering what his arm would feel like under her hand.

Perhaps he wouldn't mind. Perhaps he expected something of the sort, in exchange for- She cut herself off.  _No, not all men are like that._

She knew better than that, even after years of Petyr trying to make her believe they were and that he was the only one who actually cared about her, even if he was the one who always reminded her she owed him for taking such good care of her.

She still remembered her dad and Jory, Mr. Davos and Jeyne's father.

Petyr had convinced her her family wouldn't want her anymore, not after Joffrey, and now that she'd finally grown smart enough to recognize it for the lie it had been, it was too late. She was never going to see her family again. She couldn't risk it.

"So," Jon startled her out of her thoughts, his low rasp causing a tingle to course through her skin. "You're heading east. Any particular place?"

She gave him the name of a large bus station a good way over the state border.

He nodded. "I can get you there."

Her lips parted in surprise. "What? No, you don't have to do that. I'm sure it's well out of your way and-"

He shrugged. "It's a bit of a detour, but I'd feel better dropping you off there."

Without thinking, she put her hand on his arm, his eyes slowly following her movement, staying fixed before travelling back up to her face.

Part of her registered how hot and hard his arm felt under his smooth skin. "I don't want to be of any more inconvenience than I already am, Jon," she objected breathily. 

His throat bobbed up and down as he turned his eyes back on the road. "It's fine, Sansa," he said gruffly.

***

They stopped at a seedy motel for the night, but fortunately their room had a decent bed and a working shower. 

Sansa insisted the bed was large enough for the both of them. Jon gulped at her suggestion. It had been a while since he'd shared a bed with a woman.

Unbidden memories flashed in his mind as he lay next to her, of another life, another redhead, who was long dead, and a sense of dread threatened to overwhelm him.

He shook off the feeling, trying to focus on the present. He found himself staring at Sansa's back, speculating about the secrets she was hiding.

He closed his eyes to ignore the dip and curve of her waist and hip, but the darkness heightened his other senses, the scent of her hair invading his nostrils and her soft breathing filling his ears.

He wondered what it would feel like to hold her in his arms, imagining goosebumps rising under his fingers as he touched her, trying to conjure up the taste of her skin.

Okay, so he wanted her, big deal. She was out of his league anyway, she was the kind of girl who would never give him the time of day.

And even though it was her being in need of help that had drawn him to her, awakening old instincts and urges, he was not enough of a fool to fail to recognize it for the red flag it was.

He wouldn't fail this girl. He'd just help her get to safety, even if he didn't know what she was running from. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He awoke to already too bright light and the sound of the shower running. He wondered vaguely how he'd managed to fall asleep.

When Sansa emerged from the tiny bathroom in a blue dress with ruffles, skin rosy and hair damp, he quickly pushed past her to make use of the shower.

***

Sansa watched Jon munch down a plate of bacon and pancakes as she picked at her French toast. She tried to relax under his occasional glance at her face, aware he was studying her nervous behaviour. She picked up her cup of coffee to keep her hands occupied.

Jon was focussing on his plate again, so she took advantage of it to stare at him. She'd never thought that eating could look particularly sexy, but there was something definitely attractive about the way Jon did everything he did giving it his full attention.

She lowered her eyes, keeping them on her coffee. She hadn't slept well that night. She wasn't used to sleeping with a man lying next to her. Petyr had always left her alone after having his way with her.

She'd wondered what his hands and mouth would feel like on her skin. She risked another glance at his full lips. She could kiss him, just once, to thank him and find out whether they were as soft as they looked and what his full beard would feel like against her skin.

She bit her lip. She couldn't indulge in such a fantasy. She picked up her fork, trying to eat a little more.

Fifteen minutes later, they walked out into the parking lot. Sansa turned around, adjusting her hat, as they reached Jon's truck, giving him space to unlock it.

Closer to the diner, a stocky man with grey hair stepped out of a black sedan. She recognized him as Lothor Brune, Petyr's right-hand man.

Without thinking, she grabbed Jon's shirt, moving him in front of her to block Brune's view. After the initial shock, she felt his body resist. 

"Sansa, what-?" he started to ask, eyebrows knit together, but there was no time to explain.

She reached up, pulling his face to hers and kissed him hard. For a moment he froze, but then he started responding to her kiss. His hands came to rest on her hips and he groaned, nipping at her bottom lip.

She retaliated in kind, moaning as his lips parted to welcome her tongue. She started to relax into the kiss, until she remembered why she'd initiated it.

She pulled away, but pressed her body closer, fingers still tangled into his curls as her lips ghosted over the shell of his ear. 

"We need to leave. Now!" she panted.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Jon took the nearest exit to continue their journey on the back roads. After driving around in a large circle, once he was certain they weren't being followed, he accessed the freeway again.

 _You're an idiot, Jon Snow,_ he kept cursing himself mentally.  _A fucking idiot!_ It wasn't just that he should have known that something like this was bound to happen, on top of that, he couldn't stop thinking about her kiss.

He kept his eyes on the road and Sansa didn't attempt to make conversation after sharing a description of the man who was following her and his vehicle. 

 _It didn't mean anything to her._ He wasn't about to let feelings complicate things again. He'd fucked up so badly the last time it had happened.

He huffed, drawing a curious look from Sansa.  _Feelings,_ it hadn't even been twenty-four hours since they'd met. But  _God,_ he wasn't imagining the tension between them. Maybe it was just the circumstances, but he knew at least there was real attraction on his side.

 _Focus, Snow, focus._ They were safe, for now, but he needed more information to navigate through this situation. 

He pulled into the parking lot of a gas station and killed the engine. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Jon," Sansa began. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into this." Her voice broke.

He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring. He needed air. He pushed his way out of the car and started walking away from it.

Sansa ran after him, calling his name. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

He flexed his hands before turning around. She'd lost her hat somewhere and her red hair framed her tear-streaked face like a halo. Part of him wanted to tell her it was okay, but he knew that would be a lie. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Sansa," he started, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. "You need to start talking. Tell me everything you know."

She blinked, mouth falling open as she stared at him. "I- I don't know where to start."

 _Put her at ease._ He offered her a smile, tucking some hair behind her ear. "Sansa, is that your real name?"

She nodded.

"You probably shouldn't have told me then," he answered.

She chuckled, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.

"Who are you running from?"

She bit her lip and averted her eyes. "His name is Petyr Baelish."

 _Fuck._ " _The_ Petyr Baelish?" he blurted out. "Littlefinger?"

She pulled away, shaking off his hands and narrowing her eyes at him. "How-? You're a cop, aren't you?" She snorted out a cold laugh, shaking her head. "I should have known."

"Sansa," he called out, waiting for her to meet his eyes. "I'm not a cop, not anymore."

***

Jon continued the interrogation as they got back in the car. He'd assured her they'd lost Brune for now and most of her fear had subsided. She hadn't just been afraid of Brune finding them, but also of Jon's reaction.

She could feel his anger simmering just below the surface earlier and she'd tried to anticipate his response, but he was cool and methodical now, eyes steady on the road as he coaxed the story out of her.

She left out some of the parts she didn't feel comfortable sharing. "He's a dangerous man to cross... But I couldn't do it anymore. I had to try, Jon. I just had to."

He nodded curtly and several minutes passed in silence. Suddenly he asked: "How did he do it?"

She turned to look at him. "What do you mean?"

"You... don't seem like the type of girl to fall for his tricks. I'm just curious, what did he promise you?"

She stared at him for a moment. "I got married at eighteen, moved halfway across the country for the guy,"  she muttered. "He turned out to be an abusive prick... Petyr found me when I had nothing. When I was nothing. He offered me protection. Love. A home."

The only reply Jon offered her was a sad smile. How was it possible this man could see right through her? On the other hand he had hardly told her anything about himself, but she couldn't judge him for that. He didn't owe her anything, regardless of the fact that she'd involved him in this mess.

What he had told her had always been truthful so far. What she couldn't figure out was why he hadn't abandoned her yet. 

They drove in silence for another half hour. "I have a plan," Jon announced. "I know a guy who can help us. You know, IDs, driver's licence, social security number... You name it, Sam can do it."

 _Us?_ "So that's where we're going? To meet this Sam?"

He scratched his beard. "No, he's difficult to get in touch with... I want to take you to a safe place, while I take care of things. Tormund's a little rough around the edges, but I promise you can trust him. He saved my life once."

She bit her lip. This was a start, it was something. Perhaps he'd be willing to share more if she prompted him. "Earlier," she began. "You said you used to be a cop... What happened?"

He remained silent for a couple of minutes, and Sansa was about to apologize, when he suddenly said: "I was working on a case, an undercover operation. There was this girl... I was supposed to gain her trust to get access to information. But I fucked up and she died."

"I'm sorry," Sansa whispered hoarsely.

He sighed heavily. "Yeah, me too."

***

Another night, another motel room. It had him on edge, staying here, even if it was only for a couple of hours, but he needed his rest. He wouldn't be getting any the next couple of days.

He'd retrieved his M&P 9 from the glove compartment just in case. 

Sleeping in the truck was an option, but it left them even more vulnerable with no natural shelter or defence in sight. He hated being out in the open like this. Tomorrow they'd hopefully enter different terrain.

"Jon," Sansa's soft voice invaded his thoughts. He looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows planted on his knees.

She was looking at her feet, standing in front of him. "I wanted to thank you... I know I'll never be able to repay you for what you're doing for me and I'm not even sure why you're helping me, but- thank you."

 _I'm not sure either._ She was looking at him with those big blue eyes of hers gleaming in the dim light, picking at the hem of her too short dress.

One more step and he could easily pull her into his lap, slipping his hands under her skirt and up to her ass.

She took that step and confessed. "I think I'd like to kiss you again."

That was all the encouragement he needed, but instead of pulling her down, he rose to gather her in his arms and capture her lips.

It was only a couple of feet to the wall and he cupped the back of her head when she collided with it. Her fingers tangled in his hair again and he groaned at the pleasurable pain of it.

Their kiss was hungry but sweet, all teeth and tongue, every nip soothed by a lick or caress of lips. His hands slid down her body, tightening on her waist as he rolled his hips into hers.

He grabbed her thighs, lifting her up. Her long legs automatically wrapped around his waist as he pinned her against the wall, grinding his erection into her hot core.

His hands travelled up again, brushing over her tits. The sounds she was making as she clawed at his shoulders were driving him insane. He splayed his hands on the sides of her neck, fingers brushing her jaw and ears and silky hair.

It would be so easy to unbutton his jeans, tear aside her underwear and push inside of her. They could enjoy this moment of desperation and forget for a while.

But it would only complicate things. And he would be taking advantage of her. So he released her and put her down gently, panting and ignoring the way his cock twitched at her displeased whimper.

"We shouldn't be doing this, Sansa," he stated gruffly. "You don't owe me anything. Not... Not like that."

 


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time, the silence between them had become uncomfortable. His rejection hurt, but it was her own fault. She'd given him the idea that she was trying to repay him with sex for helping her. She'd repulsed him.

What was the use of her finally meeting a good man if she didn't have a clue how to act around him?

Once again, it seemed as if he could read her mind. When they stopped for refreshments, he reached for her hand, twining their fingers together, and whispered: "You didn't do anything wrong, Sansa. It was all my fault. I'm sorry."

She pulled her hand away. His  _apology_ only stoked up her anger, so she turned her back to him. Perhaps she hadn't done anything wrong, not truly, but she'd still done it, and now he was acting as if she couldn't take responsibility for her own actions. She rolled her eyes when she heard him sigh.

That night they slept in the bed of the truck. They were out of the desert, but the night was still cool. Sansa was shivering so badly she thought soon the truck would start trembling along with her. Finally her fear of freezing off a limb won out over her pride and she shuffled closer to Jon, chasing his body heat.

He froze when she pressed herself close to him, so she muttered: "It's cold."

He grumbled in response and relaxed. She tucked her head under his chin and smiled at the feel of his arm slipping under her shoulder.

***

Jon's friend Tormund lived in an old ranch house fifteen miles from the nearest town. Tormund himself was a big man with a large orange beard and a boisterous laugh. 

He greeted Jon with a one of those laughs and a clap to the shoulders that had him swaying on his feet. When he spotted Sansa behind him, his eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline before he fixed Jon with a long stare.

Sansa gratefully made use of Tormund's shower. When she crossed the landing, her stomach grumbling at the promise of a hot meal, urgent whispers drifted up the stairs.

"I saw you after Ygritte, Snow!" Tormund fumed, barely able to keep his voice down. "And now you show up on my doorstep with another redhead running away from someone you don't want to mess with. What am I supposed to think?"

"You're not supposed to think anything! It's different this time!" Jon snapped back.

"Is it? I don't see how..."

"I'm not asking for your opinion, Tormund!" She wondered what Jon's face would look like, contorted with rage as she imagined it to be. "I'm asking you to look after her for a couple of days, keep her safe. Can you do that?"

Tormund emitted a litany of colourful curses before snorting loudly. "Yeah, fine, I can do that, Snow."

Sansa slumped against the wall. She wasn't hungry anymore.

***

Jon left the next afternoon. Sansa didn't hold back saying goodbye to him. She held him tightly, breathing him in and making him promise to return soon.

He disentangled their bodies, pursing his lips as Tormund threw him a questioning look.

***

"So... You and Snow, huh?" Tormund teased as she helped him prepare dinner for the two of them.

"No," Sansa answered, trying not to pout and sound like a petulant child.

He barked out a laugh, not fooled by her attempt to sound indifferent. "No," he repeated. "And you're not happy about that."

She dropped her potato and peeling knife on the table, crossing her arms in defence. "I just don't get it. Why is he holding back like that?"

"Give him some time to sulk about it," he said with a smirk. "He'll get over himself... Eventually."

She remembered the whispered conversation the men had shared two nights before. "Who's Ygritte?" she asked.

He huffed, averting his eyes. He finished peeling a large spud before finally sighing: "You should ask him."

"And you think he'll tell me?"

He met her eyes, considering her for a couple of moments. "He fell in love with her when he shouldn't have. It ended badly and she died."

"So she's the undercover case girl?" she blurted out.

"He told you about that, huh?" He paused, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. "Don't get yourself into a dither, he'll come around."

***

It was already dark when he finally returned to Tormund's three days after leaving. Sam had everything he needed to arrange the papers, Tormund had already sent him a picture of Sansa with her new darker hair.

He saw her sitting on the porch swing as he drove up the long lane. She rose to her feet, walking down the steps as he got out of the truck.

Her hair was a soft brown now and at least four inches shorter. She ran a hand through it and asked: "What do you think?"

"It's err... nice," he commented, shoving his hands in his pockets.

She chuckled. "You're a bad liar."

"I preferred the red," he confessed. "But you're still very pretty."

Her face flushed a lovely pink. "So, did you find Sam?"

He nodded. "Everything will be ready in a couple of days."

She was wearing shorts again, picking at a small hole in them, high on her right thigh. "That's good." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I believe there's, um, something you should know, something you don't seem to understand."

He frowned at her, tilting his head to indicate he was listening.

"All my life I've been told that to get what I wanted all I had to do was be a good girl. Obey, smile, be polite. How do you think that worked out for me?"

He shook his head, opening his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He wasn't sure yet where this conversation was going.

"I'm done being a good girl," she continued. "I'm finally taking charge of my life. There has to be more to it than just running and surviving. I'm going after the things I want now. And guess what, Jon? I want you."

He gulped to relieve his suddenly dry throat as his heart tried to beat out of his chest.

She closed the distance between them and looked him straight in the eye. "If you don't want me like that, it's fine. But you need to realize you don't need to protect me from yourself. I can make up my own mind and I'm not going to die if you have sex with me!"

He blinked at her as she clasped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. That last bit didn't come out the way I imagined it..."

 _What the hell, Tormund?_ "What did he tell you?"

She bit her lip. "Not much. But I think I sort of get it. And I believe you shouldn't let your guilt dictate your decisions for the rest of your life."

He clenched his fists. "But I should let you dictate my decisions? I'm also able to make up my own mind, Sansa!"

There was a fire in her eyes he hadn't seen before. "Are you? You're letting your past control your future. Perhaps it's time for you to let go and take charge of your life as well."

She took a deep breath. "Goodnight, Jon," she said, turning around. "I'm glad you're back."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was only supposed to be 4 chapters and something really bad was supposed to happen at the end, but it looks like things might turn out a little different...
> 
> I guess I'll see where the story leads me!


End file.
